


The Memory of Your Touch

by blackash26



Series: Fakiru Week 2014 [7]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackash26/pseuds/blackash26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duck likes to think about Fakir's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Memory of Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fakiru Week 2014 Day 7. Prompt: Hands.
> 
> Takes place sometime during season 2.

Fakir had big hands. That was the main thing she noticed beyond her terror and nervousness the first time she danced with him. His hand dwarfed her own delicate one. And then it was a warm and solid against her back and then her stomach as he held her up in the air.

For a long time Duck had been so focused on Fakir’s whispered warnings about how she should leave Mytho alone as they danced that she had forgotten the subtler details of that dance. She would flush with anger at the memory of how cruel Fakir could be.

Later, when she got to know Fakir better, when they finally started working together to help Mytho, when they actually became friends…the memory made her flush for a different reason.

She dreamed of dancing with Fakir. She dreamed of her hand in his as he whirled her around a stage in front of an empty house. She dreamed of his hands encircling her waist as he lifted her high into the air, like they were flying. She dreamed of him gently settling her back down onto the floor.

Instead of going on with the dance, in her dreams he would then pull her close, one large hand leaving her waist to cup the back of her head as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers…

She woke from those dreams with her heart thumping in her chest and a throbbing between her legs.

Duck still wasn’t entirely sure what she may or may not feel for Fakir, but in the heat of the moment her own hands always went wandering. She ran her palms over her stomach and pinched her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown. She trailed her fingers teasingly up and down in her inner thighs and then, finally, pretending her hand were not her own, she would touch herself properly.

When she was finished she’d giggle a little to herself and sigh contentedly before rolling over and going back to sleep.

The morning after she often had trouble looking Fakir in the eye, but her traitorous eyes somehow always managed to steal greedy glances at his hands.


End file.
